


Whatever Helps

by BeePls (nerdybumblebee)



Category: Trainspotting (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mark's POV, Set in 1996-ish, Sickrent, brief allusions of sexual assault, it's super short lmao, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdybumblebee/pseuds/BeePls
Summary: "Simon was hypersexual. That’s just how it was, when life fucked you over like it had Simon. You either avoided sex at all costs, or you found it was the only thing that could make you feel much of anything."Mark thinks about what sex means to Simon. Set somewhere in/around 1996. Brief allusions to sexual assault. Nothing in detail, though. Mentions of drug use.





	Whatever Helps

It was another one of those nights. Nights when Swanney got too tired to deal with us. Made us go home, giving us a bit of weed to help ease the low that soon to come. I liked when we came down and chased the skag with a bit of weed. It was those nights that, more often than not, ended up with Simon pushing me down onto my bed and crawling over top of me.

Simon was hypersexual. That’s just how it was, when life fucked you over like it had Simon. You either avoided sex at all costs, or you found it was the only thing that could make you feel much of anything. Maybe that’s why he liked heroin. And hanging around heroin addicts. None of us had much of a sex drive when we were on the junk. We didn’t worry about things like sex. We didn’t worry about whether we felt anything or not. We didn’t need to. But when we were off it? Simon had a consistent hunger.

I think it was more than just the feeling of being alive or worth something that he liked. When we were fucking, he was in control. He needed that. It made him feel safe. Not that I minded. I rather liked being controlled. I liked being pinned down and looking up at him why he railed me, begging him to keep going. Faster. Harder. Eyes rolling back into my head as he hit just the right spot. Or when I was on my knees and bobbing my head. His hand running over my buzzed head and staring down at me with that crooked grin of his.

He always had to be looking at me. He had to face me, or else he couldn’t do it. Not that I minded. Whatever helped him. Whatever stopped him from flinching at every ghost of a touch or loud voice. He had never outright told me; but deep down, I knew. I also knew he needed this. A situation where he called the shots. Made the rules. Got to start and stop when he decided. Simon was hypersexual. It was how he coped. It was how he compartmentalized. Not that I minded.


End file.
